


162 Candles Redux

by wheel_pen



Series: Daisy [14]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Naughtiness, Vampire Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy meets Lexi; Daisy and Bonnie discuss her magic crystal necklace; Damon and Daisy get frisky on the dance floor; Daisy watches as Lexi meets her end. “Eternal angst made a good case against turning anyone below the age of forty into a vampire.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	162 Candles Redux

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Daisy, my original character, moved to Mystic Falls about a year ago. There is something special about her.
> 
> 2\. This series begins with the first season of the TV show and completely diverges about halfway through the first season. Facts revealed later on the show might not make it into this series.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This series may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate being able to play in this universe.

            I was fixing breakfast in the kitchen of the Salvatore house when a total stranger walked into the room. She was blond, stylish in a somewhat extreme way, and equally surprised to see me. I also got the distinct impression she was a vampire—the first I’d seen in Mystic Falls aside from Damon and Stefan.

            “Hi,” I began, thinking I ought to make the first move. It was broad daylight out, so she was in a somewhat vulnerable position.

            “Hi,” she replied, sussing me out even as I did the same to her.

            On the other hand, she was a stranger in a house I frequented. “So… who are you?” I asked politely.

            “I’m Lexi,” she replied.

            “I’m Daisy.” My toast popped up and I pulled it from the toaster, starting to butter it. Lexi watched this routine act with intense curiosity and started to drift closer. “So, you’re here to see Damon and Stefan?” I probed.

            “I’m an old friend,” she told me, in that self-consciously clever way vampires often had. Really, the joke wasn’t that funny. “I came into town for Stefan’s birthday.”

            “Hmm,” I remarked. His approaching birthday was news to me. I figured at this point she was wondering what exactly I knew about the household here, so I smiled and asked, “And by ‘old friend,’ are we talking more or less than a century?”

            She smiled too and relaxed a little more. “One, going on two,” she revealed. After a moment’s hesitation she added, “If you don’t mind me asking—are you human?”

            “I do a good approximation of one,” I replied, “after I’ve had my coffee.” Hey, no one said _I_ couldn’t also be self-consciously clever. I could tell Lexi really wanted to ask me just what on earth I was doing here, eating toast and drinking coffee in a vampire kitchen, but she was too polite. That tactful restraint on her part made me want to reveal more, as a reward. “I’m Damon’s girlfriend.”

            Her eyes went wide. “ _Really_?” Clearly she knew Damon well enough to understand this was an odd circumstance.

            “Really,” I nodded, in a conspiratorial way.

            “How do you put up with him?” she asked, tactful restraint out the window now that we had achieved an artificial sense of closeness.

            “Mind control,” I deadpanned, and her expression became uncertain. “It was sad I had to resort to that, but he proved to be completely untrainable.” Lexi’s eyes widened again and then she started to laugh.

            Damon whooshed into the room and appeared beside me. “You know, I can hear everything you’re saying,” he informed us, mock-annoyed.

            He was fresh from the shower, hair still damp, and his black sweater clung to him in a way that made me seriously consider skipping my first hour class. I tried to exercise some tactful restraint myself as I smiled and handed him a mug. “Here’s your coffee. You didn’t tell me it was Stefan’s birthday.”

            “Your mind control must be slipping,” he teased.

            “How did you two meet?” Lexi asked, sounding slightly shocked that it had even occurred.

            I had almost forgotten she was in the room and turned my back on Damon so I could finish eating my toast. “Pizza delivery girl,” he responded flatly. “We’re big tippers.”

            Lexi was still staring at us when Stefan walked into the kitchen. “Oh, good, you two have met,” he observed.

            “ _You_ didn’t tell me Damon had a girlfriend!” Lexi accused, spinning on him.

            “It has to be seen to be believed,” Stefan replied dryly.

            “Happy Birthday, Stefan,” I told him, and he immediately became self-conscious.

            “Thanks.”

            “Are you doing anything for your birthday?”

            “Might call for an extra-special diary entry,” Damon mocked from behind me. I stepped back against him to let him know I hadn’t forgotten about him, even though I hadn’t looked at him in thirty seconds. He liked that kind of reassurance on a regular basis.

            “I’m here to make sure he does _something_ fun tonight,” Lexi insisted playfully.

            I must have looked slightly surprised at this because Stefan hastened to add, “No, no, nothing like _that_. Lexi and I are just friends.”

            “Don’t listen to them,” Damon told me in a naughty tone. “I’ve got some incriminating daguerreotypes.”

            Lexi turned towards him, retribution in her eyes. “Maybe we should talk about Paris in 1899. The Moulin Rouge, with that bottle of absinthe?” she threatened. Stefan covered a smirk at the memory.

            Damon grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. “Hey, I don’t need you two corrupting my girlfriend with your lurid vices,” he claimed. “That’s my job, and I want it done in a very particular way.”

            Apparently we were leaving for school now, so I snagged my jacket and bookbag as we headed for the garage. “Bye, guys! It was nice to meet you, Lexi!”

            “You, too!” she called after me.

            “You were at the Moulin Rouge?” I asked Damon with interest. “Did you ever meet Toulouse-Lautrec?”

            “Yeah, he was short,” Damon replied. Clearly that was all I was going to hear on the subject.

 

_Later that evening_

            As soon as I got off work that night I headed to the Grill, where the party was still in full swing. From the doorway I could see Lexi and Stefan playing pool—he looked happy and relaxed, despite Elena’s absence. Damon, on the other hand, did not look especially pleased as he sat hunched over the bar, nursing a scotch. Damon not especially pleased could be an unpleasant sight—but when he saw me sidle up to him he automatically put his arm around me and pulled me closer, even if his expression didn’t actually lighten. A warm feeling spread through me and I couldn’t help reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

            “How’s the party you got Caroline to throw for you going?” I asked, anticipating a negative answer.

            He sighed. “Could be better. I think there’s still some surprises ahead, though,” he added, which struck me as extremely suspicious. “You wanna do something for me?” he asked suddenly, though his expression said my participation was a last resort unlikely to succeed.

            “Possibly.”

            “I want that crystal necklace Bonnie has, but she won’t give it up,” he informed me. “Caroline failed to obtain it for me. It does something weird when people touch it,” he added thoughtfully. “Kind of shocks them.”

            Interesting. “Well, I’ll go take a look at it,” I offered. “Can’t promise anything, though.” Damon shrugged as if he weren’t expecting much and kissed me good-bye before I left to find Bonnie in the crowd.

            She was sitting in a booth by herself in the corner, looking miserable and preoccupied. She’d been pretty stressed out lately, though I wasn’t sure why—she, Elena, and Caroline had all been close friends since first grade while I was still a relative newcomer and not necessarily privy to all their problems.

            She didn’t really look happy to see me and it was easy to figure out why. I smiled anyway and slid into the booth across from her. “Hey.”

            “Did Damon send you?” she asked immediately. She was clutching the crystal of her necklace tight in one fist.

            I smiled disarmingly. “Yes. Is he crazy or what?” My put-down seemed to relax her a little bit and I turned more earnest. “Look, I’m sorry if he’s been hassling you. He gets fixated on things sometimes.”

            “He’s not a nice person, Daisy,” she told me, speaking from personal experience.

            “I know he’s definitely gotten off to a bad start here,” I agreed, careful not to sound like I was defending him. “He treated Caroline like c—p, let’s face it. And he’s not exactly diplomatic when he wants something.”

            “He seems different with you,” Bonnie observed curiously.

            I shrugged her comment off, not wanting to make the conversation about me. “I think we’re just better suited to each other. What is the deal with this necklace, anyway?”

            “I don’t know,” Bonnie lied. She might not have understood Damon’s interest in it, but she knew more about the object than she was willing to say.

            “Do you mind if I look at it?” I asked reasonably. At her hesitation I smiled and made a show of putting my hands under the table. “I promise, I won’t even reach for it. I just thought maybe I could find him one that looked like it, or something. Maybe he’d be satisfied with that.”

            Bonnie looked dubious about that idea but released her hold on the crystal, setting the pendant on the table for me to see. It was a large yellowish translucent stone surrounded by a ring of antique iron—unremarkable except for its size. Frankly it was rather reminiscent of a tacky cocktail ring.

            “Hmm, I wonder if that’s topaz,” I mused. “Have you had it appraised?”

            She looked startled at the suggestion. “Well, no.”

            I continued to study the stone at a distance, stalling for time. “The ancient Greeks believed topaz could increase your strength and make you invisible,” I informed her.

            “Doesn’t seem to be working for me,” she replied dryly.

            “And in the Middle Ages it was thought to heal mental disorders,” I added. “Maybe that’s why Damon wants it.” I glanced up at her and smirked, letting her know it was okay to laugh, and she did so a little. I leaned back in my seat. “Well, I hope you aren’t offended by this, but I don’t really see much in it,” I told her. “But if you like it, finders keepers, you know? He shouldn’t have given it away if it was that important to him.”

            “I feel kind of bad, because it _was_ Caroline’s,” she admitted uncomfortably.

            “And then _she_ gave it to _you_ ,” I reminded her. We seemed very much on the same wavelength. “Which she shouldn’t have done, if it was important to _her_.” Bonnie nodded thoughtfully and I stood up. “Look, don’t worry about it,” I suggested, though that was futile advice. “I’ll try to keep Damon off your back. He’ll probably forget about it in a few days.”

            “Thanks, Daisy,” Bonnie told me. “I feel a lot better about all this.” Which was my goal. I smiled and left her.

            “Did you get my crystal?” Damon asked unhopefully when I reappeared at the bar. He was still nursing a drink, but I suspected it wasn’t the same one.

            “Would you come dance with me?” I countered, as a slow song began over the sound system. He sighed ungraciously but stood and allowed me to lead him to the dance floor, where only the hardcore couples remained. I pressed up against him and wrapped my arms around his neck, as hardcore as any of the others, and his arms automatically went around my waist. “Act like you’re totally focused on me,” I whispered in his ear.

            “I’m not that good an actor,” he whispered back, sarcastic even as he nuzzled beneath my ear.

            “And don’t look at Bonnie,” I added.

            “This is exciting,” he murmured, swaying with me to the music. “Are we going to exchange microfilm with our tongues?”

            “Well, maybe when we get home.” There was a pause. “I forgot what I was going to tell you.” He reached under the hem of my sweater and pinched me, and I reacted swiftly to return his hands to their publicly-approved locations. “Now I remember,” I chided him, resuming my position. He chuckled a little in my ear and went back to placing little kisses up and down my neck, which rattled my concentration all over again. “Have you ever associated with witches?”

            He stiffened against me, and not in the way he usually did when we danced. “Yes.”

            “The crystal is a witch’s talisman,” I whispered to him, “but I think you already knew that. Thanks for the head’s-up, by the way.” He grunted unapologetically. “My guess is, Bonnie is a descendent of a witch who was associated with that crystal, and now it’s protecting her against evil forces. Like you,” I added, grazing his neck with my fingernails.

            He pulled me closer, if that was physically possible. “She told you all this?” he hissed in my ear, surprised.

            “Of course not. But once I got a good look at that crystal I realized I’d seen it before.”

            The news startled him, though he managed not to break our cover of being a disgustingly handsy couple on the dance floor. “Where?”

            “The town archives,” I answered, and he seemed slightly disappointed by the prosaic response. “There was a portrait of a woman wearing the same necklace—a black woman who was rumored to be a witch.”

            “Emily,” he breathed, making some connection in his mind. The woman in the portrait was indeed named Emily, and given when she lived in Mystic Falls, I suspected Damon had known her. I also suspected he wouldn’t tell me anymore about his interest in the crystal. “You go around looking at portraits in the town archives?” he teased in a lighter tone, changing the subject.

            “When I first moved here,” I explained. “I like history.”

            “And you _remembered_ them?” he pressed.

            “How many mysteries are you trying to solve tonight?” I shot back.

            I could feel him smirk, that’s how close his lips were to my skin. He was quiet for a few moments, then suddenly said, “I am seriously about to bite you. Come outside with me.”

            “Didn’t you have dinner?” I teased, leaning back to look at him. His eyes blazed blue and I felt like I was falling into them—the kind of feeling that made me wonder if he could compel me after all. Or made me _wish_ he could.

            I had always wondered how those disgustingly handsy couples could suddenly leave the dance floor and walk outside, with everyone watching them and smirking and knowing what they were going off to do. Now I knew: they were too wrapped up in each other to even notice anyone else. And everyone else was just lucky that we had remembered we were still in public at all.

            The alley was empty and surprisingly clean. Damon backed me up against the wall in a dark corner and started nuzzling my neck, nibbling my earlobe, nipping at my lips. I made noises of protest, which he ignored, until I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled him close enough to kiss properly. Enough teasing.

            Finally I needed to come up for air. While I caught my breath he pushed aside the neck of my cardigan and the strap of my tank top underneath—I _had_ at least convinced him to consider my clothing before chomping down—and his breath raised hairs on my skin as he paused, assessing the proper angle. Then he bit—not too deeply, just a nibble, really, his teeth pulling out quickly to release the flow of blood. His mouth moved over my skin, sucking lightly as if trying to raise a hickey. He couldn’t stand still under the taste of my blood and his body jerked against mine as he groaned into my neck.

            We both noticed the approaching footsteps just before it was too late. With a curse Damon pulled his mouth off me and turned away to calm his features back into those of a normal human, and I yanked my sweater back up over the open wound. Fortunately it was a dark color. A flashlight shown in my face. “Who’s back there?” an authoritative voice demanded.

            I was conscious of the fact that this could end badly—Damon interrupted on a feed, even a snack, wasn’t the safest situation—and I faced the police officer with a casual pose. “Daisy Fortescue,” I said in a friendly tone. “It’s Deputy Weston, isn’t it?”

            The man directed the flashlight away from my eyes. “I know you,” he decided. “You’re the girl at the pie shop, aren’t you?”

            I smiled beatifically, as befitted a seller of pie. “That’s right. You got the… triple berry last time you were in, didn’t you? How did you like it?”

            He was astonished by my recall and warmed at the memory of the dessert. “It was delicious,” he assured me. “I’m a little embarrassed to say, but—between me, my wife, and the kids, we ate the whole thing that night!”

            I chuckled pleasantly. “Well that’s what it’s for.”

            The officer was not dissuaded from his duty, however. “Who’s your boyfriend?” he asked, still a bit too serious, and Damon turned around slowly. “Mr. Salvatore?” he recognized with some surprise. Damon had been busy lately getting into the police force’s good graces, trying to take the place of his absent ‘uncle.’

            “Guilty as charged,” Damon joked, sounding appropriately sheepish for someone caught necking in the alley.

            Deputy Weston narrowed his eyes a bit and leaned closer to me. “Isn’t he a little old for you?” he checked, well within Damon’s hearing.

            “He’s pretty immature,” I confided with a wink. Damon made a noise of protest and I turned to him playfully, wanting to show the deputy that I was perfectly safe. My eyes widened slightly when I saw his face and I quickly reached up to wipe away a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. “And you wonder why I’m always reapplying my make-up,” I chided as a cover.

            He quickly checked himself for other leftovers. “Well, maybe if you didn’t put so much on to begin with…”

            “Then you wouldn’t be kissing me at all,” I shot back. His expression in response was a perfect, shallow _Good point_.

            The act seemed to convince the deputy that all was well. All _was_ well, it wasn’t really an act at all, but we were both keenly aware of the heightened tension in town and wanted to avoid seeming suspicious. The deputy lowered his flashlight entirely and directed us out of the alley in a slightly scolding fashion. “You two be careful out at night,” he warned as we headed for the main door.

            “Thanks, Deputy. You, too,” Damon replied, in what _I_ interpreted as a slightly threatening tone.

            “Stop by the pie shop again sometime,” I added quickly. “You know, triple-berry pie counts as a fruit.” The officer chuckled a little at that and turned away, going back to his rounds.

            Inside the Grill it seemed hot, stuffy, and loud compared to the cool quiet of the alley. “You can do mind control tricks, can’t you?” Damon accused gleefully.

            I gave him a look that said he was way off base. “Lots of people can. Con men, politicians, televangelists. People are pretty easy to read.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced by this explanation—I guess he thought the deputy should have been more difficult to get past. “Are we going home anytime soon?” I checked, tugging on a belt loop on his jeans.

            This was the equivalent of a moral dilemma for Damon—go home and have sex, or stay here for whatever scheme had led him to have this party thrown in the first place. Conflict raged on his face. “No,” he finally decided, with great reluctance.

            “Okay. Then I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room and clean up a little,” I replied, kissing him good-bye.

            “Do you even _wear_ make-up?” he asked randomly.

            “No.” Fortunately I didn’t think the deputy would notice I wasn’t wearing blood-red lipstick.

            I left Damon at the bar and went to the ladies’ room where I rinsed out the shoulder of my cardigan. “Can you believe I got a Bloody Mary dumped on me?” I complained to the girl at the next sink as the red liquid washed down the drain.

            “It’s all over your shoulder, too,” she commiserated. I made a noise of disgust and wiped at my skin with a wet paper towel. The flesh underneath was unbroken.

            “I don’t have a celery stalk in my hair, do I?” I joked darkly and she laughed, shaking her head.

            I dried my sweater out as best I could under the hand dryer, then dressed again and left the ladies’ room. Damon was nowhere in sight, which seemed typical. Elena had arrived and was now talking with Stefan near the pool table—I could see they weren’t as comfortable with each other as Stefan and Lexi were, but their body language indicated considerable interest. The comfort would come in time, I surmised.

            Lexi, meanwhile, was standing at a table by herself, staring down a line of tequila shots. I was intrigued by her history with Damon and Stefan and decided to take another opportunity to speak with her—it didn’t seem like she would be around long.

            “How’s the party going?” I opened, approaching her.

            She nodded in a pleasantly buzzed way. “It’s fun. It’s so great to see Stefan really in love again.”

            The fact that he was in love was not a surprise to me, but I didn’t realize Lexi had picked up on it so quickly herself. Or maybe Stefan had outright told her—they must be close friends indeed. “Yes, I think he and Elena will really be good for each other,” I commented. “Their personalities are very compatible.”

            She nodded in agreement, but I could feel the subject shift. “But what is up with you and Damon?” she asked, in the intrusive way of the slightly tipsy. Perhaps her earlier tactful restraint had been an anomaly. “Trust me, I’ve known him a long time, and he is bad news.”

            Part of me wondered if I should start getting angry, or pretending to get angry, when people put Damon down. But another part of me realized that would be foolish—because the people who said those things were usually right. With the information they had, our relationship _did_ seem dangerous, ill-advised, at best inexplicable. I would’ve said the same myself.

            So I tried to give the matter some thought before responding to Lexi, someone who had been an important part of both brothers’ lives for a long time. I figured meeting her was kind of like meeting their sister, or at least a favorite cousin.

            “I guess, I really don’t trust _good_ news,” I told her slowly. “I’ve had more experience with the bad. I know how to handle it.”

            She looked at me with a suddenly sober expression. “But can you trust _Damon_?” she asked, as if she found such a concept impossible.

            Trust him to do _what_ , was the real question. Lexi’s gaze was more perceptive than I had bargained for and I fell back on the generic, distancing line that no one ever believed. “I can take care of myself.” It was a conversational dead end; I would rather hear more about her past with the boys than psychoanalyze myself for her.

            “Yeah, she can really kick my a-s,” Damon said, appearing suddenly at my side, “at Monopoly.”

            Lexi raised her eyebrows. “You two sit around playing board games?” She clearly wasn’t buying it.

            “When we aren’t delivering pies to the poor,” he confirmed virtuously. Lexi narrowed her eyes at him in a suspicious way that I felt encompassed more than just his obviously sarcastic statement.

            Her gaze flickered towards me and I understood she wanted to talk to Damon alone. “You two have a lot of catching up to do,” I remarked, kissing his cheek. “I’ll go say hi to some people.”

            Despite Lexi’s free-wheeling attitude, she struck me as extremely intelligent, and no doubt she was wondering what exactly Damon was doing in Mystic Falls, hanging around with humans. Her past experience with him would likely suggest it couldn’t be anything good. But would she be any better at getting his plans out of him than anyone else? There were too many blanks in their relationship for me to judge.

            I didn’t want to interrupt Stefan and Elena, so I headed off to a quiet corner by myself to think. Damon had gotten Caroline to throw this party, and it wasn’t just so he could get at Bonnie’s necklace—and it definitely wasn’t just so Stefan would get out of the house on his birthday. Damon had a larger plan, he always had a larger plan, some scheme for getting what he wanted that no one wanted him to have. It was a mindset I could appreciate.

            I wondered sometimes what part I played in his schemes, beyond the immediate gratification of sex and companionship. He didn’t ask much of me otherwise, so perhaps he wasn’t sure yet what he could do with me—another reason to keep my abilities, such as they were, mysterious and unquantifiable. It would be interesting to see what he came up with—his plans, so far as I had seen them, were usually ambitious, ruthless, and multi-purposed, with the opportunity for personal enjoyment as well.

            I felt like I had missed something somewhere along the line, though, as I sat in the dark booth. The tension was subtly but surely rising around me and my eyes fell upon Caroline, being carried away by Matt, Elena’s ex. That wasn’t a problem in itself; he was a nice guy, as trusted to not take advantage of a drunk girl as Stefan was. (Least trusted in that regard? Damon, of course.) But when they left the bar I caught a glimpse of flashing red lights outside—a police car on active duty? My senses sharpened and I quickly located all the key players—Elena and Stefan at a booth, happily oblivious; Damon and Lexi talking at the bar, intense and adversarial; Bonnie sitting with some friends, afraid to go home alone tonight. With good reason—in a crowd she would be safe. Surely.

            Deputies appeared at the door to the bar, Officer Weston among them—the expressions they wore were grim, determined… nervous? I presumed they weren’t here to cite the bartender for selling alcohol to minors, then. The Sheriff walked in with a miserable creature under her arm—a girl I recognized from school, her hair in disarray and face red from crying. She was staring at the bar. At Damon and Lexi.

            Realization struck me full force, pinning me back in my seat as it swept over me like a wave. Not long after meeting Lexi I had realized that Damon was going to expose her as a vampire and blame her for the deaths that he had caused—he hadn’t dropped any conscious clues about this, but it was obvious to me based on how his mind worked. He needed a scapegoat to appease the vampire-savvy town leaders, and I guessed Lexi was someone he would willingly sacrifice to make his—and Stefan’s—life easier. She _might_ die during the execution of his plan, of course—naturally he would be running it without her knowledge—but she might also escape, letting the Sheriff believe the vampire threat had been run off for the time being.

            But I hadn’t given it enough thought. I hadn’t seen the scheme all the way through.

            Damon couldn’t let Lexi live.

            Deputies in tow, the Sheriff marched up to the bar and quietly jabbed Lexi in the hip with a syringe. Its contents—probably vervain extract—made her immediately woozy. Damon made a brief protest, as if he couldn’t believe the Sheriff was taking away the pretty blond he’d been talking to. ‘Arrest’ wasn’t the right word—Lexi wasn’t going to jail, she wasn’t going to get a lawyer and her day in court. She would be taken away and executed as an unnatural threat to humanity.

            But it might not happen fast enough for Damon. Or worse, she might escape—what I had once thought of as a positive outcome I now realized was actually the last thing Damon wanted. Alive (so to speak), Lexi could expose Stefan and Damon, or otherwise exact revenge on them—I didn’t believe she would do anything against _Stefan_ on purpose, but it was hard to hurt one Salvatore brother without also hurting the other. Or Stefan might do something foolish, trying to help her. Damon could not take that chance. He would have to make sure she met her end quickly.

            When I looked up, searching the restaurant for him, he was already gone. Stefan was turned away from leaving via the front by a pair of deputies, so he and Elena headed for the back. I followed, unnoticed in their haste. They went one direction around to the front of the building, I went the other. I believe we all arrived in time to see Damon plunge the stake into Lexi’s heart himself.

            All part of the plan.

            I flattened against the wall, stifling myself to avoid attracting attention. I wasn’t a player in this game of his, just an observer. I did not presume to judge his actions—how could I? Nor did I bother justifying them. But witnessing the actual moment of betrayal and murder still gave me a visceral shock.

            I scooted further back into the shadows. Damon was talking to the Sheriff, who held a gun full of wooden bullets that could have immobilized him if she suddenly realized the threat he posed. But she _wouldn’t_ realize it, at least not yet; even with a charm full of vervain protecting her from compulsion, Damon could still work mind control tricks—the old-fashioned way, like con men and politicians and televangelists.

            What would Stefan do, that was the question. The fury must be rolling off him in waves—he valued even casual acquaintances, and he and Lexi had been close for more than a human lifetime. Disbelief, despair, grim determination—those would drive him when the fury burned out like the initial burst of a supernova. Damon held onto his rage and nursed it. In this way the brothers were not alike.

            I watched the proceedings with distant interest—Lexi’s body was taken away in the trunk of a squad car for disposal; Damon was questioned about how he came to be talking to her at the bar; the insatiably curious restaurant patrons were finally allowed to leave. They were ill-informed and speculated rampantly about the black body bag being loaded into a pointless ambulance—perhaps the boyfriend of the weeping girl who had identified Lexi as their attacker. In her case vampire-enhanced mind control tricks had worked perfectly well.

            I left when Damon left, but not _with_ him. Though dramatic Lexi’s death was not the climax of the scene, I felt—the tension had to be released between the brothers. It always came down to the brothers, opposing forces yet intrinsically bound, spinning around each other for a good approximation of eternity. When the wave broke upon the wall this time, I wanted to be there to see it. As always, to observe.

            They were faster than I was and I missed the start of the battle, not that it lasted long. Stefan stayed his hand—perhaps he thought that made him the better person?—and after he left in righteous despair I found Damon on the floor, writhing around a stake through his stomach.

            “ _Now_ you show up!” he snapped.

            “He wasn’t going to kill you,” I assured him, examining the weapon clinically. I reached for it and Damon growled in warning.

            “I’m glad you’re so certain!” Gritting his teeth he yanked the stake out of his flesh, dark and slick with his own blood. I knew the wound would heal quickly, though not quickly enough for Damon’s preference.

            I leaned back against the wall and put his head in my lap, encouraging him to lie still. Stefan couldn’t stand to be in the same house with him and had fled, temporarily—would he seek comfort with Elena, or would this latest escapade convince him that his was a world too dangerous for her? I voted for the latter. Stefan would sever himself from love to protect it; Damon would cling to love all the more fiercely, locking it away in a cage to keep it safe. Either way, everyone involved was miserable.

            Eternal angst made a good case against turning anyone below the age of forty into a vampire.

            Damon wasn’t exactly chortling with glee at his hour of triumph, anyway. I knew the expression on his face—resignation. The way he had made things was the way they had to be. It was a twisted, circular logic that became all too easy to accept with time. Lexi had to die to fulfill the plan. Sad but inevitable. That it was _his_ plan, that _he_ was the direct instrument of her death, were just details. Now he and Stefan were safe from the vampire hunters—for the time being.

            His cool fingers wrapped around mine, resting over his heart. He tilted his head slightly to look up at me, assessing my reaction as I assessed his. “If he kills you, the story ends,” I explained to him.

            He frowned. “Story? What story?”

            “The story of Stefan being human.” His gaze dropped, then flickered to some empty corner of the room. “This house, all the things in it, the people he knows—they’re not what remind him that he was once human. It’s you. And he won’t kill you until he’s ready to give that up.”

            “Well _that’s_ comforting,” Damon muttered.


End file.
